


a moment in between

by ohjustpeachy



Series: Tony Stark Bingo Fills [26]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, Hurt James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:26:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29116722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohjustpeachy/pseuds/ohjustpeachy
Summary: Those few blissful seconds right before he regains complete consciousness sometimes feel like all he has left. Then, of course, the realization hits, and Rhodey feels the loss all over again, hears the words anew every time. Complete paralysis.Tonight is one of those nights.Or, Rhodey wakes from a nightmare and Tony does what he can.
Relationships: James "Rhodey" Rhodes/Tony Stark
Series: Tony Stark Bingo Fills [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1601260
Comments: 14
Kudos: 54
Collections: Tony Stark Bingo Mark IV





	a moment in between

**Author's Note:**

> for the hurt/comfort prompt: "I want you to know it's okay to cry," and for the square S5 on my Tony Stark Bingo Card: Fears appear in reality. 
> 
> Title: a moment in between  
> Collaborator Name: peachy  
> Card Number: 4017  
> Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29116722  
> Square Filled: S5/Fears appear in reality  
> Ship/Main Pairing: Ironhusbands  
> Rating: G  
> Major Tags: hurt/comfort, angst  
> Summary: Rhodey wakes from a nightmare and Tony does what he can.  
> Word Count: 1203

They’re both a mess, after the fight. 

Tony spends countless hours in the lab, making sure Rhodey’s braces are as strong, as supportive and infallible as they possibly can be. 

Rhodey spends a lot of time in his own head, trying to accept the idea that no matter how much tech he has at his disposal, he’ll never walk on his own again. He’ll never be able to just _get up and go_ on a whim. From now on, every move, every step will require some level of planning and forethought. And while on one hand, he knows he’s lucky to have the help he has — god knows Tony hasn’t left his side for longer than a few hours at a stretch since it happened — on the other hand, he feels trapped in a body he no longer recognizes.

It’s a hard thing to come to grips with. 

Some days it feels nearly impossible; every step punishing, every fall a death sentence. 

Some nights, Rhodey wakes up gasping, clinging to the sheets, the blankets, Tony’s shoulder... anything he can to ground himself after a nightmare. It’s always versions of the same terrible thing: the heart-stopping realization that War Machine was dead with him trapped inside, followed quickly by the deafening silence of _falling,_

_falling,_

_falling._

Next, the sickening crunch of bone hitting ground, and then... _darkness._

But the worst part is waking up only to realize that this nightmare, Rhodey’s very worst fear, isn’t just a nightmare at all. The realization that all of those things really _had_ happened, leaving him here feeling powerless and filled with an unrelenting anger. 

Those few blissful seconds right before he regains complete consciousness sometimes feel like all he has left. Then, of course, the realization hits, and Rhodey feels the loss all over again, hears the words anew every time. _Complete_ _paralysis._

Tonight is one of those nights. 

Most nights are, these days, and Rhodey wakes up with a gasp, thrashing against the blankets only to find Tony already struggling to sit up beside him. He’s blinking away the look of guilt he almost never lets Rhodey see, replacing it with one of patience, love, and worry. 

“Honey,” Tony murmurs, voice low and sleep-rough in the early-morning darkness. “I’m right here,” he reminds Rhodey, reaching over and squeezing Rhodey’s hand in his. The gesture serves its purpose, helping Rhodey wake up and leave the remnants of the nightmare behind, but he yanks his hand away, suddenly full of a rage and pain so strong he isn’t sure how to stop it.

This is going to be his life, _forever_. This sense of undeniable loss, this unshakeable, lingering feeling of falling, and a husband so overcome with guilt it threatens to overwhelm him. 

“Don’t do that,” Rhodey snaps. 

Tony flinches, pulling his hand back. “Okay, I’m sorry,” he says. He doesn’t ask ‘ _do what_ ,’ which Rhodey is thankful for, because he isn’t quite sure yet himself. 

“I’m going to go get us some water, okay?” Tony asks, realizing, apparently, that Rhodey needs a moment to collect himself. At his nod, Tony slips out of bed and pads down the hall, leaving Rhodey to take deep, shaky breaths in an attempt to try and push away the tightness in his throat, the prickling pressure behind his eyes. He rubs hard at his eyes with his fists, like he can physically keep the tears at bay if he just fights them hard enough. 

This is how Tony finds him when he gets back with the water, entering the room as silently as he left it, and making Rhodey gasp in surprise when he feels a hand on his shoulder. 

“Sorry,” Tony says again. “I’m—” He sighs, then sets the glass on the bedside table, apparently trying a new tactic. 

Rhodey lowers his hands, knowing that even in the darkness Tony will be able to see the way his eyes are shining, tears threatening to spill over. He hasn’t let himself cry about what happened. It wouldn’t solve anything, for one thing. He mostly just feels that sense of loss, and, more frequently these days, anger that this _feud_ between the Avengers — a so-called _team_ that neither of them were ever supposed to be part of — had led to this. 

Tony slips back into bed beside him, placing warm hands on Rhodey’s face, forcing him to look at him. Rhodey fights the urge to pull away, to turn over and force his eyes shut even if it means more dreams. 

But Tony holds firm, looking at him with so much determination and worry and _love_ in his tired brown eyes that Rhodey nods once and draws in a shaky breath, trying to match his breathing to Tony’s. 

That helps, sometimes.

Now confident Rhodey wouldn’t turn away, Tony takes both of Rhodey’s hands, squeezing them in his again, warm and reassuring and rough in a way Rhodey has come to know and love over the years. Something familiar against all that’s changed between them. 

“Listen to me. I want you to know that this—” Tony gestures to the bed, the tangle of blankets and suffocating darkness — “it’s normal, after what happened. It’s okay that you’re fucking angry. It’s okay to cry. Everything you’re feeling, it’s _okay_.”

And it’s like… Like something fractured cracks all the way open in Rhodey’s chest. He hadn’t been waiting for _permission_ to feel this complicated mess of feelings. He knows he never needs that, not with Tony, not with anyone, and yet, there’s something about the certainty in Tony’s voice. 

_It’s okay that you’re fucking angry_. 

God. He _is_. He’s devastated and angry and _changed_ irrevocably. 

And sure, he hadn’t needed permission, but maybe there had been a place somewhere deep in Rhodey’s mind, that hadn’t _wanted_ to cry, hadn’t wanted to accept any of it, or make Tony’s guilt worse. 

Rhodey manages a ragged breath as he nods, letting Tony’s words continue to wash over him in waves, then lets the tears come, hot on his cheeks only until Tony leans over and thumbs them away, so gently it makes that splintering feeling inside him deepen, and he shudders against the sobs that wrack him, rough and messy and long overdue.

“I know,” Tony murmurs. He doesn’t tell him it will be okay, or make empty promises. There are none of those hollow words people say in these moments of hurt and powerlessness, and Rhodey loves him all the more for it. 

Because they’ve never needed platitudes, the two of them. Even when they first met, they’d both been through too much for bullshit. It’s what made this work for so many years. The word finds its way back to Rhodey’s mind, unbidden: _familiar._ It settles over him, this quiet reminder in the dark.

So, there are no empty words tonight. 

Instead, Tony pulls Rhodey to him, his arms warm and strong as he holds him, kissing away the tears as they fall, a silent promise that while might never be the same again, it’s okay to break. It’s okay to cry and scream that it’s not fair. Tony would be there, and he isn’t going anywhere. They’d get through this, not unscathed, but together. 


End file.
